Valediction
by borntoflyhigh
Summary: Contrary to popular belief and the not-so subtle gossip that was exchanged at his office, he did not return to England nursing a broken heart. He was /the/ Oliver Davis after all - one woman could do absolutely nothing to waver the control he'd so carefully crafted inside him, no doubt his hypothetical heart was still stable and intact. Three-shot. Naru-centric.
1. Denial

' **Valediction'**

 **Disclaimer:** _I do NOT own GH. This reminder is the bane of my existence._

 **A/N:** _Crack. This is plotless blabbering on my part, awards to you if you dare proceed. I was actually trying to remove my writer's block for ATCAD when I heard The Script's song: Six Degrees Of Separation. Also, today marks the day when I have completed two absolutely wondeful years at Fanfiction! Thanks to all those supported my stories throughout these years, I've learned so much ever since I became a part of this community! Love to you all!_

* * *

 **valediction**

 _noun val·e·dic·tion \ˌva-lə-ˈdik-shən\_

 _an act of bidding farewell_

* * *

 **Stage 1 –**

* * *

Contrary to popular belief and the _not-so_ subtle gossip that was exchanged at his office, he did not return to England nursing a broken heart…

"Noll? Would you pass that blue file here?"

How the idiots at work could even conjure something as pathetic as _that_ was truly remarkable; he had always thought they envisioned him as the heartless bastard he was, an image he'd perfected over years. It was surprising how one measly rejection had made the façade crack until it was reduced to nothing but shards.

He did not stay to collect the pieces.

Oliver had always been too impatient for that unlike his twin… he had never been the one to mourn over something damaged.

Even if it was his battered pride.

"You need to spend more time with Luella. She's lost one son – don't make her feel like she's lost you too."

He would make himself another role while he was musing in England and he would come up with something stronger, tougher, certainly not broken by the tears of temperamental assistants. Although when one thought about it, he was not sure if he would ever be moved by the tears of anyone but _her._ Truly, she knew all the ways to manipulate him into doing what _she_ liked, which was often more amusing than annoying – the way she knew what went on his mind, the way she could gather and turn everyone against him with that one dynamic smile; she'd managed to put a spell on Lin as well and more than often he found Lin turning against _him_ in favour of her.

"Noll?"

Her smile was so bright that he had blinked twice when she had turned it on to him for the first time. He'd seen women smiling in his direction ever since he turned fifteen; sly, elegant, flirtatious, charming smiles that he'd returned with his customary smirk.

Then he couldn't understand what was so special about that crooked, lopsided grin that made his thought process halt for many good seconds.

"Noll?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned to Madoka who looked as if she had been calling his name for quite some time – he finally turned his attention towards her, tearing his unseeing eyes from the open file in front of him.

"Hmm?"

He watched Madoka's weary stance _blossom_ to vibrant excitement.

"You're brooding…" Her voice held a wonderment to which he rolled his eyes. "My God. So it's true!"

"What is?"

Madoka paused in the middle of punching a number in her phone and turned to him, a wide smile on her face.

She winked. "You're heartbroken!"

 _Not this again._

He'd had enough of Lin's irritating, probing question which had ended rather abruptly when he had managed to frost a teacup by his PK, letting him know how irritated he was by Lin acting like his bloody therapist.

Desperate times called for desperate measures…

"Musing is a sign of intelligence." He snapped shut the file in front of him and leaned back in his chair, meeting Madoka's awed gaze with resolution. "One I would highly recommend to you."

For a moment, the woman in front of him paused, her eyes scanning his face for any emotion, he stared back as impassively and watched as a sage look made its way into Madoka's expression.

"Men only sigh, brood and grouse when a woman tramples on their fragile hearts and useless ego."

He could only try to restrain the exhausted sigh that was threatening to leave him; his mentor should have been in the theatre, her skills were sadly wasted in the paranormal department, for sure.

"Excuse me, darling." She patted his shoulder sympathetically, pushing back her chair to stand up. "But this is a development I _need_ to inform Luella of."

He scowled at her retreating form.

He was _not_ heartbroken.

 _I'm a heartless bastard,_ he felt like reminding Madoka who was waltzing her way down the corridor, humming to some soppy melody, _that narcissist jerk who has an inflated ego. Remember me?_

He needed to come up with a plan and fast, if he wanted to erase the suspicion that he had broken his heart preceding his arrival. He did not need his mother asking him presumptuous questions about a girl who, _perhaps,_ loved his dead brother.

Though why the memory of Mai's smile haunted each day of his, each night - he did not know.

The only thing he did not doubt was the present, _intact_ condition of his hypothetical heart.

He was obviously, definitely not heartbroken…

And that was all there was to this story.

* * *

 **Stage 2 –**

* * *

He convinced himself that the picture on his desk was due to the infernal interference and nagging of Luella and Madoka.

Certainly not because he _wanted_ it there.

The picture caught the light that shone through the glass windows, the metal framework on the edges glinted brightly and he convinced himself that it was the light hurting his eyes that caused him to blink and turn away from the image.

Certainly not because he caught _her_ smiling broadly at him from her place in the photo…

All day long he worked – studiously kept himself immersed in his files, put cases together, solved the puzzles, had lunch in the name of shuffling food on his plate and managed to never, even _once_ , look at the icon on his desk.

And then, when he did glance, almost accidentally, he found himself turning away once more. He still did not regret his return but maybe he did regret ending things the way he had, he could have found a tactful way to deal with the whole situation but he had been so obsessed with getting Gene's body back to England that he could not think outside that sphere.

Until she'd confessed.

And he'd been rejected.

"Oliver." A baritone voice cut into the dense mass of his thought. He looked up to see Lin entering the office, briefcase in one hand and coat in the other. The Chinese looked around the mess on his desk until his eyes caught the photo, unsmiling, he picked it up and his mouth kicked up into something like a smirk.

"Nice."

Naru snorted as he collected his coat, choosing not to comment as Lin's eyes raked over the frame.

"They're already betting that you've got a girlfriend." Lin gestured to the office outside the glass doors, setting the frame back on his table. "And that she's left you for someone more expressive."

"Really?" He tried to make his voice sound as disinterested as possible, Lin had an uncanny penchant for extracting wanted information from people by just a single clue. "Who's winning?"

He looked up after tossing his files into his briefcase and found that Lin was smiling wolfishly.

"I am."

"I don't understand why all of you are bent on making me look like a sappy idiot." Naru walked out, the Chinese in his wake listening as he explained the predicament. "I am hardly rhapsodizing over anything, am I?"

"Your type of mooning includes barking at every poor employee in the building." His companion said matter-of-factly as they rounded a corner. "And throwing silent tantrums, glaring at everything in sight. You know – the usual…"

He scoffed.

"Please."

The next day when he came to the office, he put the frame down on its face – if he blocked it from his sight he might be able to cope better with the situation.

Though he never once removed it entirely.

He needed her to test himself, every damned day, reassure himself that he wasn't turning into some kind of Romeo, that whatever affection he held for her had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her tea.

And he spent another long, tedious month torn between instinct and denial.

The picture remained face-down on his desk…

* * *

 **Stage 3 –**

* * *

"You're going to starve to death, Noll."

"Mother _._ "

"Don't 'mother' me! You've been ignoring meals and that is _definitely_ unhealthy, young man."

" _Mother."_

"Martin! Say something to him, he's not eating properly! I fear for his health."

"Noll, please eat."

"Father…"

"I told him. He refused. Anything else, dear?"

"Why do both of you behave like that?! Do you know how exceedingly frustrating it is to watch you like _this_ , Noll?!"

"Luella… dear…"

"I _lost_ Gene. I don't want you to act like you're in the realm of the dead!"

"Mother. Please…"

"Just _don't_ Noll. Please just don't give me your monosyllabic answers. Every day I watch you function on almost nothing. Do you know what that does to _me?_ I suffocate in this silence!"

. . . .

"Mother."

" _What?"_

. . .

"I apologize…"

* * *

 **Stage 4 –**

* * *

After that one month, he almost stormed into the office one day and set the picture back up.

For a moment, he glared at her smile rather harshly – he needed to know his own mind when it came down to this before he went barrelling into foolhardy decisions or worse, raw instinct.

Oliver glanced at her face, mapping the small details at the back of his mind, the twin red splotches in her cheeks, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a scar near her ear. Her lips upturned into the most enthusiastic, vibrant smile he had ever seen.

He felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing occurred as he stared deep into her wide, deep grin; he managed to blink approximately once and he knew that it had nothing to do with her blinding smile. He felt like rejoicing, claiming that he still remained invincible to everyone in the world, that Mai was a mere wisp of a long forgotten memory. He could not remember anything about Japan anymore and for the first time since he had come to England, did he sense triumph surging through him.

He was finally forgetting…

The triumph felt stale.

He found himself wondering if he _wanted_ to lose but then again he was _the_ Oliver Davis, no woman was capable of taking his walls down or trampling upon his non-existent heart and ego.

At the end of the day, he was so contented with forgetting that he forgot to put the frame down.

And when he did remember the next day and the days to follow; he couldn't bring himself to put it face-down – he _had_ forgotten after all… what was the point of removing it if he was hardly distracted by its presence. Really.

He only stared at her every once in a while…

Or more.

By the next month, he'd honestly lost count of those covert glances.

* * *

 **Stage 5 –**

* * *

"They're dating." He muttered the acrid words, hardly taking his eyes off the picture. "She's dating _this…_ weakling?"

If Masako Hara had anything to say to his rather covetous statement, she showed no sign and chose to shrug carelessly, sipping her tea.

He felt a turbulence inside him, uncurling in his veins, spreading to his whole system, rupturing all possible thought.

"Are you quite sure Mai's taste has not disintegrated during my absence?"

"Oliver." Hara-san put the cup back in its saucer and folded her hands in her lap. "She is extremely happy with her boyfriend. He is very caring and they both balance each other well."

Bloody. Hell.

"Balance?" His words dripped with barely-hidden sarcasm. "Of course."

Hara-san skewered him with her typically shrewd gaze, eyes narrowed to grey slits.

"Sarcasm will hardly help your cause, Davis-san." She smiled mirthlessly. "You are no one to comment upon the way Mai chooses to spend her private life."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm her _boss_." He reminded the medium rather forcefully. "I have to see that her mind is free from personal distractions so that her professional ability does not decline."

She pursed her lips and tilted her way to the other side as if deep in thought.

"You _were_ her boss."

 _Ah, that…_

Sweeping herself gracefully off the sofa, the medium turned to him, smirking.

"You are always welcome back at Japan." Her head cocked to one side, she nodded at him. "It was pleasant to see a familiar face after the filming finished. Thank you for having me over, _Naru_."

Unsure whether it was an invitation or nothing but a mere courtesy, he only shook hands with her and stood to show her the way out. Of course, the only reason he had truly invited her over to his place had been to get an inside scope on Mai's life and all the conversation had gotten him was an ill temper, one that would continue for days until it froze into a part of his icy composure.

She was alright with life – laughing, enjoying it like it was meant to be.

He should be happy for her, he should be relieved that she was alright with him going away.

Yet here he was, fighting wars with himself over nothing as he tried to work, tried to sleep, he needed to be away from all this, needed to regain his scattered sanity and come up with a final decision.

For the moment all he could do was rage silently at her.

And perhaps at himself too…

* * *

 **Stage 6 –**

* * *

" _Yasuhara, speaking_ …"

Oliver paused for a moment, considering what he was about to say to perhaps the most obnoxious person on the face of this planet, but well, he needed the collegiate for this plan to work right.

"Yasu. It's me –" He paused for a second, uncertain of how to address himself, the curse of the fact that he was too many people at the same time – he settled for the most familiar epithet. " _\- Naru._ "

A few seconds passed in deep silence, stretched by the crackling static until the researcher almost whooped in delight on the other side of the phone.

" _Big Boss!"_ Yasu's welcoming, ebullient voice was a welcome distraction from his current situation. " _I'm shocked that you called me!"_

He was shocked too. He was just trying to make himself believe that it had been his fingers that had dialled Yasu's number.

" _Wait!?"_ Naru listened as the cheerful voice turned eerily mischievous. " _Are you calling to tell me that you've fallen for me?! Whaaaa - !"_

Oliver thumped his forehead against the wall in mild frustration.

"Yasu." His voice sounded ominous, crucial - _chilling_. "I would appreciate if you remained quiet and listened to me for some time."

There was another pause on the line.

" _Spill it Boss-man."_ One of the main reasons that had led him to calling the bespectacled researcher included the fact that he considered Yasu a good friend. It was not every day that people had the nerve to scare even him. " _I know you're dying to come back."_

"Shut up."

" _Well, considering the fact that you did call me. I'll acquiesce for once."_

"I appreciate that."

" _Don't. As I said – my silence is reserved for special occasions."_

Oliver released a breath he did not know he'd been holding and began talking; short snippets of explanations, memories of the days he'd spent with his inner conflict. To his utter shock, Yasu made no sound while he talked, only making sounds that assured him that he was listening.

"I believe I've mishandled the whole situation."

Yasu snorted in disbelief. _"Mishandled? More like royally messed up. Behaved like an ass."_

He felt acute pangs in his gut.

 _Guilt._

"Nevertheless, I am planning to reopen the SPR branch in Japan. I won't return until some months but Madoka will lead all investigations in my absence; her flight lands tomorrow at four in the evening."

Another pregnant pause followed his statement until Yasu released a deep sigh.

" _Why are you doing this?"_

His hold on the phone tightened as he gave the perfunctory answer he had so specifically produced for this situation.

"The rate of paranormal activity is much higher in Japan than – "

He heard another snort interrupt his carefully-worded proclamation.

" _Boss. Do save it for someone else – I hardly buy it."_

"Fine."

Yasu actually had the nerve to laugh sardonically.

" _Hmph. I thought you'd call with something more interesting than that."_

He had his questions but he knew that his colleagues were already trying to sniff out a connection between him and Mai.

Damn. He'd ask anyway.

"Actually…" He paused warily, mentally weighing his words. "I do have an inquiry."

" _Yeah?"_

Oliver waited patiently, closing his eyes for a moment to ask one question that stung him whenever it was bought up around him.

"Is Mai dating that idiot from her school?"

He waited, anticipation thick in his veins until he finally heard Yasu's dry laughter over the telephone line.

" _Oh Boss-man…"_ His voice turned wry until the laughter transformed into nothing but a chortle. _"You're in for it bad. Very, very bad."_

"Shut up."

" _Your love for her is so goddamn territorial, isn't it?"_

"What do you mean - ?"

A sigh escaped the youth.

"Yasu? Yasuhara – ?"

An abrupt click let him know that the call had ended and as he put down the receiver, sighing, musing over Yasu's words.

 _In for it…_

 _Very, very bad…_

Feeling just a bit of contentment, he ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat, musing deeply. His glance wandered to the damned photo frame; the image of Mai smiling so brightly at the camera, the other members of the SPR busy in the background.

He blinked again. In surprise. In wonderment.

It happened to him again. The same reactions as before, washing over him like a wave of revelation.

He was _not_ heartbroken.

Truly. He was not.

 _Or… was he – ?_

* * *

 ** _Review, maybe?_**

 ** _Cookies~_**

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	2. Conflict

' **Valediction'**

 **Part II**

 **Disclaimer:** _I do NOT own GH._

* * *

 **Stage 1**

Returning to Japan had been oddly liberating…

He breathed in deeply as if mere inhaling would settle the growing restlessness inside him, as if he was breathing for the very first time.

There was a familiar crispness to the night-air, a strange sort of contentment that seeped into his bones and spread throughout his system and for a moment he knew that his mind was nothing but a void of nothingness, every thought was quiet, dim. The cityscape was spread before his eyes, sprawling, stretching and stretching as far as vision would go; the lights blinding, the glimpse of a fast life racing ahead as he stood there, hands in his pockets, watching people walk past him lost in their own worlds, hearing a white noise pounding around him, time whirring endlessly, passing with each day.

It felt limitless…

 _He_ felt limitless.

Oliver Davis inclined his head to the side in detached fascination.

He had never liked being entrapped in crowds, the risk of physical contact was too high; the jarring din that rang in the background should have felt like imprisonment but right now, at this moment it served to dim the blare of inner conflict that raged around, tolling with his mind.

It was bizarre how he had spent all his life, trying to drown out the voices in his head but they had never been the clangs of inner battle, they had always been a distorted orchestra of clawing misery, incessant crying, screams that were not his own. Funny. He was being choked by memories that did not even belong to him.

But his powers had carved him. Made him every inch of what he was today.

That was what had made him decide to be a ghost-hunter in the first place. Clinging to paranormal research had not held much appeal after he had wasted childhood trying to convince himself that he was not insane. That the sounds in his head were just that… _sounds._

Now, he was here. In Japan. With an intent.

Though the real dilemma was not returning, it was what he going to do once he did return; a question Lin had often been prompted to ask him. Another example of his deteriorating thinking ability that led him to nothing but rash decision which was so unlike who he truly was.

 _A heartless bastard._

Then why was he changing?

When the plane had landed on Japanese soil, Oliver Davis had promised himself two things; he would not let his present affliction, if one could call it that, interfere with his work and two that he would not change himself, _ever._ He would not be a martyr, Mai had to accept him for who he was, not for what he could be; he did not want to change himself into Gene with all smiles, if Mai accepted him (if she ever did) she had to make peace with the grey facets of his personality and had to leave it alone, away from any probing. He was not going to change, _ever._

He hated being used.

Even more he despised being likened to someone he was not. Someone who was haunting him from beyond the grave.

It was ironic, really, how his brother continued to win hearts even if he was nothing more than a decomposed collection of bones and memories.

He hadn't even managed to make her smile…

And then he breathed in deep – again – prompting the breeze to take his mind from these erratic thoughts.

He would forget about her if he did not have her acceptance, he would go back to his life; a tidy swirl of monochromic days and would never think about her, not if she wanted him to change himself for her approval.

Oliver pushed himself off the railing and strode back towards his apartment, his mind abuzz with unwanted thoughts.

He would forget.

He would have no difficulty.

 _Lies…_

The breeze swept past him and he closed his eyes, letting the night cloak him in the shadows.

He was here. Back. _Finally._

* * *

 **Stage 2**

He did not know what he had expected to discover when he returned…

"You've been quiet all week."

Somewhere in the back of his mind – an irrational side he was unable to tune out these days – he wanted Mai to be affected by his presence, show him signs that she was still pining for him; an uncertain smile, an unconscious gesture, just _something_ that would prove that this torture was not entirely one-sided.

"It's nothing, Naru. I've just got this test I _have_ to ace and then I have to baby-sit Keiko's sister because I promised her even if I have to absolutely study that night but I can't say no to Keiko, not when she has been…"

He had waited for days, observed her relentlessly, ruthless in his scrutiny as he interpreted all she did, all she said, processing the actions in her mind, turning them over and over until his brain spun with the confusion of it all; the desperation which led him in this never-ending chase.

Either she had perfected the art of lying or…

Oliver did not care to ponder upon the alternative.

"You're lying _."_

He had been following this redundant routine ever since he had returned but it never became too old; every night while he stared unseeingly at the white ceiling he thought about her.

"It's the truth, Naru. I don't know what has gotten into your head!"

It was like a drug, creeping into his senses until he fell into exhaustion.

"Did _he_ hurt you?"

It was a medicine to his monochromic existence, it put him to things he had never imagined doing in his life, things he had never thought about.

"Hiro-kun could never hurt me. You're just being unusually nosy these days…"

It was infatuation, alright.

"Well then why did you think I was talking about _Hiro-kun._ It could have been anyone."

She smiled, she laughed, she talked and even argued with him but somehow he knew that if he withdrew from her life it would not affect her at all – she would still be the same cheerful woman she was now, perhaps she would pursue her freedom more with his suffocating presence absent from her life.

"Oh!"

The thought depressed him.

"Did he hurt you, Mai? Takigawa says you've been acting strange all week and that he caught you crying in the kitchen yesterday."

These days everything depressed him.

"That _snooping,_ old man! Why did he tell you, really?! Can't I keep secrets?"

And to think that when nothing had cost him so much thought in life, it took _one_ woman to change it all until he was doing nothing but thinking, building thoughts upon thoughts, wants upon needs, smiles upon his hard frowns; he couldn't change but for the first time in his life did he ever wonder if being more like Gene would be feasible to his situation.

"Not if they damage you emotionally."

He wanted to try.

"It's nothing. Just… _just_ forget Monk ever said anything, it was all _my_ fault. I just can't accept all that…"

Perhaps Mai would see the change in him and…

"What _is_ wrong?"

Maybe she would…

"Nothing, Naru. Everything's perfect actually. It's just me."

"Mai? Where do you think you are going?"

If infatuation was what he was going through right at the moment, he knew that he did not care to contemplate love.

"Leave me alone. Please."

Not at all.

* * *

 **Stage 3**

And then there were moments like these that made the infatuation seem almost right.

"You really don't have to walk me home, Naru." She repeated, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I can _manage!_ "

 _Right._

These days he vied for moments where he could be alone with Mai; he was turning into one of those pathetic, melodramatic heroes the women at SPR were always chatting about.

"Nonsense." He scoffed, adjusting the umbrella so that it protected her from any of the cold rain droplets. "You are probably looking for an excuse to call in sick and skip work."

He watched with barely concealed amusement as she turned _that_ particular shade of scarlet and started spluttering in indignation, her feet stomping with a splash on the wet pavements.

It had been raining ceaselessly since the afternoon and Mai in her usual forgetful manner had forgotten her umbrella home; that in itself had been nothing less than divine intervention and here he was, after snagging the opportunity to walk his assistant home.

"What?! You know I don't take leave for sickness. Why! The last time I was sick, I still called in for work and then I stayed in for the night because you made me work so much. Like I was your minion." She crossed her arms and tucked her chin in, pouting like a sullen child.

"Aren't you my _minion_ as you so aptly describe?"

For days he had been looking for the opportunity to argue with her, rile her up like he used to do in the old days before any of this had happened to him.

"Argh! You're always treating me like an imbecile."

Before he had started looking for excuses to have time alone with his fiery assistant…

"You seem to have an accurate idea of my evaluation about your character."

She made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded like a snort and stopped, turning to face him.

He watched as a shadow crossed her face.

"Why are you doing this?"

He stopped walking and stared down at her.

"What?"

"All _this."_ She spread her hands in an all-encompassing gesture. "All the arguing and the debate and the sarcastic comments as if you're hiding something from coming out by keeping your mind on one single goal."

 _How did she…_

The rain stung his face with its harsh coldness and he barely noticed that he had lowered the umbrella all the while staring at her in concealed disbelief.

She would never stop mesmerizing him.

"I – …"

Naru took her image in; she was striking, all flesh and blood and fire – the rain drops slid down her cheeks in narrow streaks, clinging to her wet hair as she too stared up at him with an unknown look in her eyes… something torn between desire and pain; confusion and knowledge, strange yet welcome.

"Naru…"

He knew it mirrored the look in his own.

Words escaped his mouth but for all he knew they could be nothing but garbled phrases linked together haphazardly; perhaps he said her name, perhaps he told her how beguiling she looked at the moment, his voice hoarse.

Perhaps he said nothing at all…

He wanted her to look away, to break whatever spell he was under with the rain pattering in a barely discernible rhythm in the background over the pounding blood in his ears, over the erratic beat of his heart.

The damned organ existed.

It hurt.

And the longing in her eyes broke his composure.

So he turned, the umbrella forgotten and walked away.

From her.

From everything they both stood for.

For someone who had always been able to walk away with disturbing ease, turning away from her had been the most difficult thing ever.

* * *

 **Stage 4**

"Is there a reason why you both are looming over me?"

"Really, Oliver. I thought you came to Japan to _do_ something. Not to sit in your chair and stare out of the window morosely as she walks away with that idiot."

"I think Boss-man's a coward."

"Both of you. Out of my office. Now."

"So you can do what, Boss? Weep over your terminated love story?"

"All you do these days is grouse internally about your situation, Oliver. Definitely unhealthy."

"Lin. Yasu. Leave me alone."

"One day she's going to marry her ' _Hiro-kun'_ and you'll cease to be Naru for her. You'll turn into bald, old, toothless Uncle Oliver! Bachelor Uncle Oliver for her children."

"While the image is… ahem… very riveting, I agree with Yasu, Noll. I won't ask you to intercede if you don't wish but please do come to terms with your heart-break because your current situation and the underlying tension between you and Mai-san is not very conducive to office environment."

"I'd probably encourage Mai to date that moron but you know how I pledged to be on your side because I thought it was _winning._ I'm having second thoughts here, Boss."

"I don't care what you do, Noll but whatever you've said to distress Mai-san, apologize for it. Anyone can see perfectly clear that she's miserable with her so called boyfriend."

"Maybe he doesn't have a masculine bone in his body."

"Maybe he doesn't have any bone in his body."

"I know you're miserable Boss but for Mai's sake. Do something."

. . .

"Maybe… he doesn't care for her _at all_."

. . .

"Don't. You. Ever. Say. That."

"Noll – I…"

" _Ever."_

"Boss, we…"

"I can't hurt her. Not this time."

"Noll, we understand, but…"

"So if you please, do not judge my actions if you do not understand my predicament."

"Oliver, you just can't…"

 _Slam…_

"I think that 'Uncle Oliver' thing gave him an aneurysm, Lin."

. . .

"Knowing Noll… it did…"

* * *

 **Stage 5**

The first time he kissed her, he finally understood complete peace.

And then he came to understand emotion and passion; the kind where you knew nothing else except the fact that memorizing each moment, each sight, each sound was absolutely imperative. It was as if he was storing the memory in the deepest corners of his brain.

He backed her up against the wall as she clung to him with a fervour that seared him.

"Naru…"

The broken whisper was a sound he would cherish forever.

" _Don't think."_

He didn't know for whose benefit he had uttered that statement; his or hers, all he knew was that he would never tire of her, of the way she moaned his name, the way she melted against him as if he was everything to her. As if he meant everything to her.

He groaned; his voice hoarse, strained.

How they came about to be like this, he did not know, nor did he care to remember, all he knew was that he lived the moment as fully as possible, consequences be damned.

"I want you." He needed to tell her everything that had led up to this mad, yet absolutely right moment. "I _need_ you."

She said nothing, just whispered his name in drunken response.

"I need you, dammit. You're so wrong for me but you make everything seem right."

He spied a tear leaking down her eye and he swiped it with his thumb.

"I want you to smile at _me._ Laugh _at_ me, _with_ me, everything. You are _mine._ Do you hear me, Mai? _"_

She gazed at him through her glazed eyes.

"Naru…"

He stared at her, lost in the way the moonlight caught her hair, the way her eyes shined with tears, how she looked at him as if she was about to burst.

"I can't be Gene. Not even if I tried."

She swallowed.

"But I can be Naru… if you want."

At that she burst into tears, clutching at the lapels of his jacket as she cried, pummelling him with her little fists.

 _What the… ?_

"Why?!" She shouted over her tears, looking up at him with a haunted look. "Why now?! _Why do you do this to me?_ "

"What do you…?"

" _Why?!"_ He took a step back, unnerved. "It was all going to be perfect. _Perfect."_

"Mai…"

His world spun like a reel of colours colliding against each other in untidy swirls, broken lines.

"Hiro _proposed…"_ She jerked her hand upwards and he caught the blinding glimpse of a diamond ring being flashed in his face. "I thought I was over you, but every time I was with him I thought about _you._ Every perfect, _damned_ time."

He could not hear anything.

He stepped back, stumbled blindly.

She answered his unspoken question.

"I said yes."

He knew he would never be the same again.

His wild gaze caught her desolate one; tears streaked down her face and her breathing was ragged, her expression gaunt. Invisible walls closed in around him and even when they stood in an empty room, he felt strangled.

So he just stared, unseeingly as she walked out of his office, out into the night, wiping her tears.

She was gone. She had left. His office. His life.

He was not heart-broken. Truly he was not.

He had just lost it.

And that was all there was to this story…

* * *

 **Stage 6**

One last time.

He stared at her.

One last time.

He mapped her smile at the back of his mind, memorized the turn of her nose, the white scar near her lip, every freckle across the bridge of her nose.

One last time.

He watched her dance with _him,_ smile at him, laugh with him.

One last time.

He noted every gesture she unconsciously made, the way her eyes brightened when she looked around the decorated hall, the way she smiled serenely every time someone congratulated her on her engagement. He just stood at the edge of the room, watching his life whir past him in a rush of dull colours, a stretch of loneliness, long work hours without a single respite in sight.

One last time.

They all danced, partied hard and he stood fixed to that spot, knowing that the SPR team was exchanging worried glances and staring at him in barely concealed pity.

He despised it.

Oliver recalled all the moments when he had appreciated Mai; noticing her selflessness, the way she found colour in places where there was nothing but dark, her tendency to find beauty in everything and anything.

One last time.

The way she looked at him. Stood up to him. Put him down when he went too high over the top.

It had ended.

Nobody would do that to him anymore.

He was glad.

And yet if contentment was what he felt at that particular moment, he knew that happiness was a closer synonym to sadness.

Though he _was_ truly glad about one thing; now he could really be the heartless bastard he claimed that he was, no more pretending that he did not have that particular organ. He could just walk around and everyone would know. No more deceptions, no more appearances, no more facades.

He just stood there, leaning against the wall, watching her.

One last time.

And as he told himself with every observation that it was all for one last time, that he would after a few more minutes because he could not handle the chaos in his mind, he saw Mai looking at him.

He found himself looking back.

 _One last time._ He reminded himself. _One last time._

Then she smiled.

It was odd; he had committed to memory every one of those but this was new.

It lanced through him.

Her smile was a waning glimmer, a tired expression that he wanted to physically erase from her face, her eyes lost their lustre and for the first time, he noticed that none of her smiles earlier this evening had reached her eyes. She looked so desperate, so exhausted that…

Mai turned away, taking with her the broken smile that had entangled his mind into knots.

And he stood there, deprived of whatever warmth she had bought along, even with that bleak look.

For the first time in his life did Oliver Davis realize that the one last time had long before passed.

Nothing was left behind – nothing to lose, nothing to gain. Nothing but a stretching emptiness… an endless chasm.

This had been valediction.

He turned away, walking towards the door blindly, the pounding of his blood so loud that it threatened to drown out all sound around him.

For someone who had claimed to have no heart he had been conquered by a woman who did not want the useless organ at all.

He was not heart-broken. Truly he was not.

No such thing existed now…

* * *

 **A/N:** _I apologize for updating this so late but ah, well, I ran out of ideas. The engagement part in the story is dedicated to **AmyNChan** so I honestly have to thank her for the wonderful idea, no matter how angsty it might be. I'll be updating soon with my other stories, the third and final part to this installment and my one-shots for the fluff-week which will be late but I hope nobody minds that! :D :D_

 _Cookies~_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


End file.
